“Damn Remington!”
“You forget he is my partner,” said Beverly White.
“Then damn you, too,” said Van Kull cavalierly. “But poor old Townley! I’m sorry——”
The speaker stopped, conscious of a sudden chill. For there was an opening in the crowd, and there stood Mr. Townley close behind him.
“Well, boys—bad times in the street, eh?” The old man’s voice piped a shrill treble, and there was something almost childish in his laugh. “Ah, the house of Charles Townley & Son has seen worse times than this. I remember when my father—in thirty-nine——”
There was dead silence in the room. Gower went up and tried to lead the old man away from the group of strangers.
“Ah, Gower, glad to see you——I’ve found a picture I think you’d like—you must come around to my house this evening—that is, if you’ve nothing else to do better than smoking with an old fellow like me. Eh! you young dogs! you young dogs! But why are you all so glum, my boys? Ah, you young fellows take things too earnest, nowadays.”
“There’s been a bad day in the stock-market,” said Beverly White. “I hope, sir, the reports of Mr. Tamms’s doings have been exaggerated?”
(“Shut up, confound you,” whispered Van Kull; but the other answered him with an ugly leer.)
“Mr. Tamms? ah, yes—clever fellow, Tamms. I like to help a young fellow along; he was in a tight place and I pulled him out. If you’d like a few hundred thousand I could let you have it—but they say Townley & Son have failed, you know. And Charlie told me something about my trusts—but that can’t be, can it? I never lost a dollar on my trusts. All gone—everything gone! Where’s Livingstone, my old friend Livingstone? His seat empty—why, he isn’t ill? Tell me, my boy, where’s Dick Livingstone?”